


smooth-talker

by starlight_sugar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Convention, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan loses his sonic screwdriver. The guy who finds it is cute. Like, really cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smooth-talker

**Author's Note:**

> dumb fluffity fluff. contains references to doctor who but nothing specific. written for rooster teeth rareship week (rtrs week on tumblr).
> 
> Rooster Teeth does not have my permission to use any portion of my writing in their content.

Jordan can’t find his sonic screwdriver.

It’s a ridiculous problem to have and he knows it, but somewhere in his massive David Tennant coat, there is a sonic screwdriver. Somewhere. It has to be there, it was there this morning when he got to the convention, and it was there half an hour ago when he was posing for pictures waiting in line for the panel, so it has to be somewhere. Probably.

He’s fully aware that he looks like a crazy person, sticking his hands in his pockets over and over and running his hands through his hair in exasperation, but he can’t help it. He’d customized his own version of the sonic - not quite Tennant, not quite Smith, something he’d been proud of. Something to call his own, really, and something he’d been excited to bring to Austin Comic Con. Which was probably stupid.

“Fuck,” Jordan mutters under his breath, and runs a hand through his hair again. It probably fell out of his pocket. Of course. He’s been waiting in line for hours - they’re showcasing the 50th anniversary special, he has to see it surrounded by people who’ll get why he’s so excited, and he has to see it with a decent seat - and he’d remembered water but not food, and there’s no way he’s going to get out of line. So he’s starving and sonic-less.

“Missing something?” someone says from behind him, sounding all too smug, and Jordan turns around suspiciously. The first thing he sees is his sonic, in all its customized glory, and just as the relief watches over him he sees the person holding it, and his mouth goes dry.

The man in front of him is dressed like Matt Smith, and even though his hair’s not quite long enough his bowtie is set perfectly askew, and his fez is perched jauntily on top of his head, and his eyes - well, they’re sparkling like Matt Smith’s. But he’s smirking like Eccleston, and he’s got a Tom Baker scarf hanging loosely around his neck, and Jordan’s staring, he’s totally fucking staring but this guy is already better than most of the people he knows. And cuter.

“Oh, thank Christ,” he says with feeling, instead of something embarrassing like “you’re cute and you like Doctor Who, we should get married.”

Matt Smith’s smirk widens, and he seems genuinely happy to hear it. “Yeah, I saw you taking pictures this morning and I remembered your sonic - did you customize it by yourself, by the way?”

Jordan nods, fixating on the sonic. “Yeah, uh, I like tinkering. I’m pretty good at it.”

Matt Smith nods, looking impressed. “Well, I guess you put it down on a table back there or something, because I saw it when the line moved forward, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t lose it.”

Jordan nods again, feeling infinitely relieved. “Thank you,” he says, with as much honest gratitude as he can fit into two words. “It took forever to get it like that, I would’ve been so pissed if I had to do it all again.”

Matt Smith laughs and Jordan definitely does not blush. So he might be a little infatuated.

“I’m Brandon,” Matt Smith who is apparently Brandon adds, holding out the sonic.

“Jordan,” Jordan answers, trying to smile without looking like a total spaz and taking the sonic. “So wait - did you have to get out of line to bring me this? Are you going to be able to get back where you were?”

Brandon shrugs, looking vaguely resigned, and Jordan feels a pang of sympathy. There’s no way he can. “It was worth it, right? Being a good samaritan and all that. Plus you’re pretty cute, so I wanted to at least get your name.”

Oh. Jordan can feel his face heating up, and so to distract himself from that he shoves the sonic into one of his pockets. “Just my name and not my number?” he asks teasingly, which, okay, he didn’t plan on saying that but it works for him so he’ll go with it.

Brandon blinks, looking honestly surprised for a fleeting instant, and then his face settles into an almost-coy smile. “Well, I’m happy to get both if you’ll give me both. It’d be a pretty sweet reward for doing a good deed.”

“I’ll do you one better. You can sit with me for the show.” Jordan grins because he knows it’s the perfect idea - if he’d been half an hour ahead of Brandon in line, then there’s no way Brandon could’ve gotten a good seat. Not to mention he really does owe Brandon one. And he’s cute. And he thinks Jordan is cute and, well, sitting with a nice, cute guy who likes Doctor Who? This could never happen to him again.

Brandon looks awestruck. “No way. You don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” Jordan says, and he does. “But first, I should get your number. Just in case I lose my sonic again.”

“That’s-” Brandon shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Christ. You’re really smooth, do you realize that?”

Jordan blinks. “I… am?”

Brandon takes one look at his face and laughs out loud, and yeah, he has it bad for this guy after just three minutes. “You don’t even notice it, do you? Is that just the way you talk to people?”

“Only people I like,” Jordan replies easily, and pauses. “Okay, yeah, I see your point, that was pretty smooth.”

“Well, smooth-talker, let me give you my number, and we can get to know each other while we’re trapped in-” Brandon gestures to the line in front of them, which is moving forward about as fast as a sloth in molasses during winter. “Hell, really. We’re in hell.”

Jordan laughs, because it’s true. “You meet the greatest people in hell, though.”

Brandon glances at him appraisingly, eyes alight. “Yeah,” he says, and Jordan feels like he’s flying. “You really do.”


End file.
